Warning!You might cry. But its well worth it:-

Hachikō - A Dog's Story (the picture at the top is Old Hachikō)

In the modern day, a class full of young students is giving oral presentations about personal heroes. A boy named Ronnie stands up and begins to tell of 'Hachiko', his grandfather's dog. Years before, an Akita puppy is sent from Japan to the United States, but his cage falls off the baggage cart at an American train station, where he is found by college professor Parker Wilson. Parker is instantly captivated by the dog. When Carl, the station controller, refuses to take him, Parker takes the puppy home overnight. His wife Cate is insistent about not keeping the puppy.

The next day Parker expects that someone will have contacted the train station, but no one has. He sneaks the pup onto the train and takes him to work, where a Japanese college professor, Ken, translates the symbol on the pup's collar as 'Hachi', Japanese for 'good fortune', and the number 8. Parker decides to call the dog 'Hachi'. Ken points out that perhaps the two are meant to be together. Parker attempts to play fetch with Hachi, but he refuses to join in. Meanwhile Cate receives a call about someone wanting to adopt Hachi. After seeing how close her husband has come to Hachi, however, Cate agrees that they can keep him.

A few years later, Hachi and Parker are as close as ever. Parker, however, is still mystified by Hachi's refusal to do normal, dog-like things like chase and retrieve a ball. Ken advises him that Hachi will only bring him the ball for a special reason. One morning, Parker leaves for work and Hachi sneaks out and follows him to the train station, where he refuses to leave until Parker walks him home. That afternoon, Hachi sneaks out again and walks to the train station, waiting patiently for Parker's train to come in. Eventually Parker relents and walks Hachi to the station every morning, where he leaves on the train. Hachi leaves after Parker's safe departure, but comes back in the afternoon to see his master's train arrive and walk with him home again. This continues for some time, until one afternoon Parker attempts to leave, but Hachi barks and refuses to go with him. Parker eventually leaves without him, but Hachi chases him, holding his ball. Parker is surprised but pleased that Hachi is finally willing to play fetch the ball with him. Worried that he will be late for the college, Professor Parker leaves on the train despite Hachi barking at him. At work that day Parker, still holding Hachi's ball, is teaching his music class when he suddenly suffers a heart attack and dies.

At the train station, Hachi waits patiently as the train arrives, but there is no sign of Parker. He remains, lying in the snow, for several hours, until Parker's son-in-law Michael comes to collect him. The next day, Hachi returns to the station and waits, remaining all day and all night. As time passes, Cate sells the house and Hachi is sent to live with her daughter Andy, Michael, and their new baby Ronnie. However, at the first opportunity, he escapes and eventually finds his way back to his old house and then to the train station, where he sits at his usual spot, eating hot dogs given to him by Jas, a local vendor. Andy arrives soon after and takes him home, but lets him out the next day to return to the station.

For the next nine years, Hachi waits for his owner. Cate comes back to visit Parker's grave when she catches site of Hachi waiting at the station. She gets emotional and sits next to Hachi until the next train comes. Hachi, now old and achy, returns to the train station at night and closes his eyes for the last time. He has visions of Parker and the two reunite as their spirits rise up to Heaven. Then Ronnie, back in his classroom, makes his conclusion of why Hachi will forever be his hero. He then meets up with his own Akita puppy, named Hachi, to walk down the same tracks Parker and Hachi spent so many years together on.

Differences:-The film is set in present-day United States, rather than Showa Era Japan as the true story. The Hachi puppy is played by a Shiba Inu puppy, while the new Hachi in the end is an Akita Inu.

Facts:Hachikō's real owner: Hidesaburo UenoBreed of Hachikō: Japanese Akita InuWhere he was born and when: Odate in 1923Death: March 8, 1935, and was found on a street in Shibuya.

The true story:-

In 1924, Hidesaburō Ueno, a professor in the agriculture department at the University of Tokyo took in Hachikō as a pet. During his owner's life Hachikō greeted him at the end of the day at the nearby Shibuya Station. The pair continued their daily routine until May 1925, when Professor Ueno did not return. The professor had suffered from a cerebral hemorrhage and died, never returning to the train station where Hachikō was waiting. Every day for the next nine years the golden brown Akita waited at Shibuya station.

Hachikō was given away after his master's death, but he routinely escaped, returning again and again to his old home. Eventually, Hachikō apparently realized that Professor Ueno no longer lived at the house. So he went to look for his master at the train station where he had accompanied him so many times before. Each day, Hachikō waited for the return of his owner.

The permanent fixture at the train station that was Hachikō attracted the attention of other commuters. Many of the people who frequented the Shibuya train station had seen Hachikō and Professor Ueno together each day. They brought Hachikō treats and food to nourish him during his wait.

This continued for nine years with Hachikō appearing precisely when the train was due at the station.That same year, one of Ueno's students (who had become an amateur expert on the Akita breed) saw the dog at the station and followed him to the Kobayashi home (the home of the former gardener of Professor Ueno — Kikuzaboro Kobayashi) where he learned the history of Hachikō's life. Shortly after this meeting, the former student published a documented census of Akitas in Japan. His research found only 30 purebred Akitas remaining, including Hachikō from Shibuya Station.

He returned frequently to visit the dog and over the years published several articles about Hachikō's remarkable loyalty. In 1932 one of these articles, published in Tokyo Asahi Shimbun, threw the dog into the national spotlight. Hachikō became a national sensation. His faithfulness to his master's memory impressed the people of Japan as a spirit of family loyalty all should strive to achieve. Teachers and parents used Hachikō's vigil as an example for children to follow. A well-known Japanese artist rendered a sculpture of the dog, and throughout the country a new awareness of the Akita breed grew.Eventually, Hachikō's legendary faithfulness became a national symbol of loyalty.

Long live the loyal dog Hachikō you will always be remembered!

A different story.

When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask, "How could you?" -- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a belly rub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" -- still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch -- because your touch was now so infrequent -- and I would've defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said, "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar, as he screamed “No, Daddy Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked, "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind.... that this was all a bad dream... or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured, "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dog speak, she said, "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself, a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of you and wait for you forever. May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

This story is so sad. Tears came to my eyes when I read this, as I am a dog lover. :'[

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